On Hidden Wings
by Vash The Humanoid Sunshower
Summary: Because if the data-crystal held a shred of truth, then somewhere in the NewSpace LTD Station 8734029 sat a weapon that could shrug off Gundanium. A weapon that would change the world. Post Endless Waltz. Possible Une X OC. Gundam Pilots Galore.
1. Prologue

**Fragments:**

**Warnings:** Other Character POV included. Also, eventual Une by OC, provided this follows the plot in my head.

**Legal Stuff: **

1. This was written totally for amusement/entertainment. 

2. I've made no money on this. Neither have any of my friends, family, pets etc. 

3.. I don't own Gundam Wing. Not a bit of it. If I did, this dribble wouldn't be fanfiction. It would be cannon. And I don't even own my computer, so please don't sue me. Please.

**Prologue:**

"Just a moment, Dr. Keton." The blond smiled and punched something into the computer behind her desk again. "These things. Ten gig processing, and still they lock up. You're visiting family right?"

"Yes. My aunt is ill." Dr. Andrew Keton forced his face into a bland expression as he spoke. His voice didn't shake, not quite. Neither was it confident. He had never been a good liar. He didn't need to lie to be a theoretical physicist. Afterall, theoretical physicists didn't have to flee the space station they lived on. Theoretical physicists didn't work for multibillion dollar corporations who killed their friends, killed their friends because they'd found out too much. 

Two years after graduation, and theoretical physics had become a far more dangerous field than he could have imagined. 

"Your aunt?" She turned. The folds of her blue jumpsuit revealed a nametag: Lynn Robinson.

"Yes. They think it's a defect in her heart." In the reflection of her glasses, Andrew saw something blink red. Once. Again. His heart clenched. "Is everything okay? They should start loading the shuttle soon."

She froze, the pause a stutter too long. Her smile grew rigid. "Fine, Dr. Keton. I'm sorry, but I need to see your card again."

Her hands shook. 

Andrew reached into jacket pocket. His fingers met firm lines, cool and reassuring. 

Behind him, the doors swished open. "Dr. Keton, please take your hands from your pockets, slowly, and raise them above your head."

He heard the click of safeties releasing. 

"Please, Dr. Keton." Lynn choked out. Her eyes shone. "Nothing will happen to you."

"Nothing." He laughed. "These kind people will shoot through both of us, if they think they can loot the final calculations from my dead body."

A man stated, behind him. "Dr. Keton. You are charged with the death of Dr. Jeffrey Blaze. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do or say can be used in your prosecution by the tribunal." 

Andrew closed his eyes. Ironic. He could still see his coworker, his friend, eyeballs exploded, floating in his own blood on the wrong side of the airlock cycle. They would charge him with the death, then kill him the same way. Or worse. He gripped his hand around the personal teleportation device he had designed. Jeff had built. Neither had tested. 

Words floated through his mind, something about the devil you know. Andrew grinned and winked. Lynn shrunk back. Tears flowed freely down her face.  

If he could get the evidence to the Preventors, maybe, he might save his own life. Save the fragile peace born in the wake of the Eve Wars.

End Prologue.

Hope this Entertains. More to come. (Note, this is a total rewrite of a story I wrote a while ago but never posted here. Hope you like it)


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Don't own GW, though the original characters are mine. Don't own much else. Please, don't sue me.

**Warnings:** Occasional OC POV, Lady Une Centric. Action/Adventure, possible romance. Gonna try and keep this PG-13.

**Chapter 1:**

Lightening broke the sky. Thunder clapped. Windows shook in their frames. 

"One second." Mariemeia shouted. "One mile and closing."

Une winced as her adoptive daughter gripped her hand more tightly. Mariemeia hated storms. Hated them with the passion born of fear, pain, and the memory of Wing Zero's beam cannon. Still, the clutching grip was a decided improvement. A year ago, the child would have curled in her lap and shivered. A year ago, when they had started this game, she whispered the seconds so softly, the thunder swallowed her sounds. So much changed in a year. 

"Maximum kill capacity!" Mariemeia screamed as the sky caught fire again. 

Une smiled. "Did you learn that one from Duo?"

Mariemeia nodded. "When he taught me the trick to reprogram the sinks to…" She kicked her feet out from inside the quilt. "I mean, last time I went with you to the office."  
"Right." Une shook her head. She'd have to have another discussion with the Preventor's most popular practical joker. 

"It's nothing against the policies."

Probably because the 'policy' hadn't been invented yet. 

Thunder crashed. Mariemeia jerked against Une's side. Une carefully unclasped her hand and dropped it around the girl's shoulder. Lightening.

"Two miles." Mariemeia choked out.

When Une stopped to think, she felt it should be strange, her arms wrapped around Treize's daughter as Trieze had once held her in this house. Then again, it felt natural. In a way, they were both orphans. 

Eventually the rain steadied, not stopping, instead beating a staccato rhythm against the roof. The wind stilled to a gentle breeze; the thunder rolled off into the distance. Eventually Mariemeia's voice fell silent and the child fell asleep.

It was then Une heard someone pounding at the front door.

****

"The docking bay?"  
 "Gone sir." 

Former Alliance Admiral Michael Caldwell arched an eyebrow turned to grey. He did not look pleased. "What do you mean, gone?" 

"From what my team can determine, a 6.5 meter circumference around Dr. Andrew Keton disappeared. It was not an explosion, not a laser mine; the surrounding area shows no signs of Minovsky particle residue, which rules out a beam weapon as well." 

Former Alliance Commander Brian Desperoix stood in at ease position, beefy hands folded behind his back, feet apart. But his mind was far from eased. In plain language, something had ripped a hole out of his docking bay, left it bleeding to space, and Desperoix had no idea what had done it. 

Caldwell sighed. "The Marx quandary, once again."

"Sir?" 

"I doubt you've heard of him." The admiral shrugged. "Carl Marx. He wrote a number of books in the pre-colony era. Constructed a logical, beautiful theory of society. Great Empires built themselves on his words. But like all pure theories, his possessed a fatal flaw."

"Yes sir." 

"You know, the time for soldiers is past." Caldwell's blue eyes brightened. His tone grew hard. "Our swords are beat to plowshares, and peace reigns over Sol."

"Sir." Behind his back, Desperoix felt his hands begin to sweat. He was familiar with the look of madness. He had seen it on the battlefield often enough. The horrors of battle changed a man. Broke him, forged him, and sometimes drove him insane.

"Dr. Keton had his perfect theory." Caldwell leaned back in his leather chair. He closed his eyes. "Instantaneous personal transmission. His phase calculations for the weapon were in part based on this passion. It made him well suited for the project." 

"You believe he was successful." Desperoix blurted out. 

Caldwell smiled. "I believe his theory was flawed. How flawed, of that I am less certain. Either way, find me the remains of the docking bay, and I believe we will find our missing scientist. And the missing data crystal. You are dismissed, Mr. Desperoix."

Desperiox turned towards the door, his mind spinning. Simply find a 6.5 meter sphere of the remains of a docking bay, scattered anywhere in the colonies, earth, or most likely, floating in the uncharted depths of space. Caldwell was insane. 

But insane or not, Desperoix would search, because the admiral was also right. The peace Desperoix had fought for died when his wife died, shot down by a Gundam beam cannon while piloting Alliance diplomats to the site of a peace treaty. 

What peace could be built on the backs of terrorists, turncoats and murderers? 

And if peace was a lie, what choice did he have but war?

****

Une didn't like surprises. Surprises meant assassination attempts. Surprises meant hidden caches of gundanium. Surprises meant coups. Surprises meant secrets, and secrets never boded well. 

Mariemeia barely stirred as Une shifted herself from beneath the girl. She slipped quietly through the door into the hallway, and pressed her hand against the far wall, next to the floor to ceiling bookshelf. A screen appeared. On it were five different full color views of the house, including the front and back entrances. At the front stood the hunched over form of a man she didn't recognize. 

He leaned against the corner of the porch and pounded on the door again. The audio pickups caught the word, "Preventors."

It had been over a year since anyone attempted to assassinate Mariemeia, but Une hadn't built and lead the Preventors by being a careless woman. She brought the radar array online first. On three corners of her property were radar transceivers. Each sent out a separate signal. The combination of the three built a three dimensional representation of her property. She superimposed the new data against the baseline map of her house, and noted two anomalies: 1. the man outside her door and 2. a 150 centimeter circular lump imbedded in the ground approximately fifty feet from the back of her house. 

Une touched the screen in the far right corner, turning on the outside speaker. "Who are you."

The man's voice held a mixture of exhaustion and terror. "Kill me. They'll kill me." 

Une activated the sonar next. A low ping echoed from the basement. A moment later, data bounced back. The results were obscured a little by the falling rain. Even so, the mystery item came up as inert. Metal. Accuracy 78%. 

A low hum sounded. Alarms were dispatched automatically to Preventor HQ as the autocannons perched on her roof dropped. A red warning flashed on the screen, "Fire: Yes? No?" 

"Who's trying to kill you?" She waited a moment, her hand hovered over the screen, then touched, 'No.'

"I need to contact the Preventors." He shivered. Damp dark hair fell into his eyes. 

Une couldn't help a bitter smile. "You've got them, now talk."

"I…I..." 

"Preventor officers are in route." Une explained. "Any evidence you might offer to aid the Preventor organization is welcome."

The screen blinked again. "Incoming. Request Identification. Identification Acquired." 

Two minutes. Heero and Duo must have been moonlighting at the office again. 

 "You can by telling me who you are, and how you made it through my perimeter security."

Bright light bathed her porch. Two Taurus mobile suits landed on her lawn.

"I…I…" The man turned his head frantically left and right, then stared, his eyes wide with terror. 

"Your name?" Une prompted.

"My name is…" He took a step forward, then swayed. "My name is…I don't know."


	3. Chapter 2

**Authors Note:** I don't own Gundam Wing. Just playing with the characters for a wee bit. Mine however, are mine. Nuff said. Happy reading!

On Hidden Wings: Chapter 2: 

He was born in a clap of thunder, his mind empty but for one thought. Preventors. He had to find the Preventors. The thought drove him towards the form of a darkened house. The thought led him onto the porch, folded his left hand into a fist, forced the fist to pound on the door until his skin was bruised and red.

The thought gave him answers. Of a sort. He needed the Preventors because someone wanted him dead. But like all pure things, the thought eventually broke down.

"You can start by telling me who you are, and how you made it through my perimeter security." The feminine voice from the speaker held rising frustration. 

A frustration he could only match. "I…I…"

Something loud, metal, and heavy, landed behind him. Blinking in the sudden light, he turned towards the noise. Mobile Suits.

"Your name?"  
  
"My name is…" He searched his mind frantically for an answer. What sort of person forgot his own name? "My name is…" He stepped forward and felt his knees turn to water. He fell against the wall, defeated. "I don't know."

"Well Mr. John Doe, I'd take my hands out of my pockets and put them up, if I were you." The voice sounded jovial, but beneath it lay the undertone of a killer. 

He felt strange, scared, as he unclenched his right hand from around the box it gripped. He raised his hands over his head.

"Turn around slowly." The second voice lacked any attempt at humor. 

John, for lack of a better name, wondered if he'd ever been this scared in his life. His hands shook. They were pale, calloused between his index finger and thumb, calloused across his palms. 

Behind him, a hum and thud. A teen in a beige Preventor uniform stepped in front of him. His eyes were purple, his hair braided down to his waist, and he held a gun in his right hand. "My name is Duo Maxwell." He said. "Now, we can do this easy, or we can do this hard. Your decision buddy."

"I am prepared to cooperate." 

"Good." Duo smiled. It was a manic smile, manic and slightly insane. "Now, I'm going to take two steps closer to you, and check you for firearms. So please, remain still." Duo glanced back meaningfully at the other Taurus suit. "Heero tends to get a bit jumpy on the trigger, early childhood training and the suchlike."

"Oh." Had he not seen the teen's expression, he would have assumed either the boy was lying, or that he still held the fantasy of immortality that typified youth. But he seemed far too calm; the sort of calm that came from living close to death for so long, that the thought of it became routine. John knew, with certainty, that he lacked this calm. He feared death. So he stood very still as Duo patted him down, only flinched when the boy fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the black box that held the key to his memories, and his life.

"What's this?" Duo asked.

"I'm not certain, but I think that's why I'm here."

****

Desperiox found his missing chunk of the docking bay a day later, on the colony news.

"Mrs. Lessig, am I correct to say that a three foot shard of warped metal simply appeared in your living room sofa?" The reporter looked like she would have felt better to hold more than a microphone between herself and the grey haired woman she interviewed.

"I couldn't believe it!" Mrs. Lessig wore a sea green felt robe and clutched a small dog in her arms. "Another inch to the right, and it would have stabbed poor Excalibur straight through."

"Excalibur?" 

The dog gave a cheerful yip.  

Mrs. Lessig blinked, averting her eyes for a second from the camera. "My son thought it appropriate. Alan had a love of the ancient legends."

"I'm sorry."

"One of Treize's boys. The Honorable Kushrenada insisted I call him that, you understand, at the funeral. Alan graduated with honors, and served well to the last. As did they all, those poor boys." She took the reporter's hand. On the bottom of the screen flashed 'Cynthia Matthews: reporting from Endameba, New Sank'.

Cynthia seemed at a loss. New to the job, Desperiox assumed. Young too, statuesque, with red hair that seemed natural and makeup that failed to measure up. It had been three years since the Eve wars, not a long time, but most preferred to pretend the wars, like Arthur's round table, were a thing of ancient history. 

The camera zoomed in on the sofa. The metal was twisted, but a piece of a serial number remained: '873'.

It was enough. Desperiox tapped the screen, turning it off, then punched in Caldwell's code.

"Caldwell." The admiral looked up from a stack of papers. After four years of working with the man, Desperiox knew that --- contrary to rumor --- the stack of papers were no ruse to impress those in his command. Caldwell preferred hard copy. Given the chance, he painstakingly printed and filed all his important paperwork, a fact that would have dramatically cluttered the life of a less disciplined man.

"I've found the missing section of our docking bay. It's in New Sank, fifteen miles from Preventor Main HQ. Permission to assemble a recovery team."

Caldwell nodded. "Get that team together. Our benefactors will be most pleased."

*****

Samantha Keton waited for her father to tap out his statement, then spoke in a clear soprano. For once, she didn't need to change his words. "The first phase is complete." 

"One might say your son worked out too well. He moved more than a month ahead of schedule." Ugari Deshig, brown skinned, grey haired, and the most outspoken of the ten representatives, addressed Edwin Keton as though Samantha didn't exist. 

As technically, she didn't. She served here as her father's mouthpiece, no more. Her father had been exposed to a deadly nerve toxin in a near successful assassination attempt ten years ago. Extensive physical therapy and illegal regeneration procedures meant he could now move his right index finger enough to punch commands into a keyboard designed for that purpose. 

For most things, he relied on Samantha, his plain, if loyal daughter. If asked, all of these men would have agreed the accident enhanced Edwin Keton's aura of command. Any who objected had been removed years ago. Still, Samantha waited patiently for her father to finish typing out whatever he intended to say. These remnants of Romafeller's allies had no problem following an invalid who needed his daughter to periodically wipe the drool from his chin, but they would never take the word of a woman, especially one who had only lived twenty eight years.

'KILL HIM NOW. HE SEEKS TO BETRAY US.' Edwin typed.

Samantha smiled. Good advice, but her father had become far too rash in recent years. Imagine, if she'd followed his orders two years ago, they'd all have been eliminated with that stupid Barton and his marionette child. 

She said, "As well you know, the implanted suggestion was designed to initiate anytime after three months of his arrival on the station. We're well within specs."

"And the weapon?" Ugari left the rest of the words unsaid; Andrew wasn't supposed to 'escape' until the after final tests.

Her father hit two buttons, 'KILL HIM.'

Samantha shook her head. "We never needed it." 

In fact, they were no closer to turning the transport theory into a weapon than five years ago. Which was to say, nowhere. Unfortunately, the destruction of the 'weapon' roughly equaled three times the amount of living matter transported when the device was activated. Which meant that a person had to find his way into the center of a target, then transport himself elsewhere. Transport himself and approximately the six meters of matter around him, which could reappear anywhere in a twenty mile radius of the person's transport location. 

An expensive and stupid idea which had yet to be improved upon by the best scientists money could buy. 

In fact, it served her far better not  to have such a weapon. Greater threats tended to create greater heroes. She didn't want heroes. She wanted the Earth Sphere to fall from the inside. For that, she would take what mattered most. 

But first, she had to clean house. Her father typed. She didn't even read his words. She said, "Mr. Deshig, as your concern for the weapon is so great, you will be best suited to supervise the final tests."

"Of course." Ugari nodded, a predatory gleam in his brown eyes. He would be eliminated in the Preventor attack on the station. After all, the 'insurgents' would self destruct rather than allow their research to be taken by the Preventors. They really didn't have a choice, now did they?

'CLEVER GIRL.' 

A year ago, she would have felt warmed by his praise. Now, she simply nodded and said, "The second phase begins tonight."

And so it went.

**CHAPTER 3 – IN PROGRESS! **

Hope this entertains. Feedback, as always, welcome and appreciated. J


	4. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** This story takes place two years after Endless Waltz. I'd thought it was going to be a Lady Une story, but everyone's getting involved now. I figure, in a couple more chapters, we'll have all the pilots, and a host of supporting characters. Hope this entertains so far J

**Disclaimer:** Don't own GW. Don't own much. So suing me is a bad financial decision, that it is.

**Chapter 3:**

The village stank of charred homes, burnt flesh, and fear. Even here, where antiseptic should have ruled, Quatre smelled it. He refused to cry, not for the dead, not for the living, and certainly not for the man he considered a father, who seemed trapped between the two, mummified, medical bandages covering his entire body. An IV dripped into his left arm; a mask breathed for him.

"He refused to let this go until you came, Master Quatre." The woman, he assumed doctor by the deference shown her from the others who bustled beneath the hastily assembled medical tent, gestured towards Rashid's right hand. She was petite, hair tied back and covered by a black drape, her pants and shirt loose and sensible for the relentless desert heat. Her voice held awe and gratitude.

"Rashid?" Quatre whispered.

The man stirred. His eyelids flickered, but didn't open.

"Will he live?" Quatre looked into her eyes, afraid to open his mind for fear of what her answer would hold.

"He shouldn't have. None of us should. But medicine cannot determine all things. Master Rashid and his men saved us, my husband, my daughter, all of us. He put his mobile suit between the school and the ones who attacked our homes. We should have died, but we didn't; he should have died, but he hasn't and he won't if I can help it." She took a breath, squared her shoulders, and blinked back tears. Tears Quatre refused to shed. She said. "I'm sorry."

Quatre took her hand. "Thank you, doctor..?"

"Imani Mohammad. I wish I could give you more. They'll be airlifting us out soon. To the city. But he wanted you to have this first." She walked to the side of the bed and touched the bandage on Rashid's hand. "Master Quatre is here."

The hand opened. Rashid's breathing seemed to come easier, still shallow, but slower somehow, as though he felt less pain. She held a box out to him, a mini-flight recorder. Quatre took it, the fear which scattered his thoughts turned to focus, the focus he remembered from the war.

"Thank you." His eyes burned. "I'll find them for you. Bring them justice."

Imani placed a hand on his arm, lightly. "He hears you."

"I hope so. Whoever is responsible, they will pay."

*****

Une didn't trust him. Not that the good doctor wasn't cooperative. Doctor Andrew Keton handed over all the information he knew he had with a gratitude that was almost pathetic. His vital signs checked out; when he spoke, he showed signs of stress, but not the kind that indicated lying. His picture and prints matched the ID. Neither matched any known criminals in the Preventor database. 

Still, Une didn't trust him. He had blank spots in his mind. She knew too well what those blank spots could hold. 

Une stood before the window behind her desk and stared across the skyline of New Sank. Her hand raised automatically to touch the pane of glass. Once, she would have asked Treize for guidance; once, she imagined he might hear her and respond. But that was long ago. She'd started the Preventors for his memory. To feel close to him. She stayed because the work formed a necessary cornerstone to her life. 

The door to her office swung open. She turned to see Heero walk to stand in front of her desk. He said, "Dr. Keton is a fraud."

Heero never minced words and he never knocked. The only former Gundam pilot who did knock was Quatre, which of course made him one of two who refused to join the Preventors after the Eve wars. 

"Report." Une said.

"Dr. Keton's ID states that he's currently serving as a consultant for NewSpace LTD. His employment record at NewSpace states he graduated from L3 University in AC 195 with a doctorate in theoretical physics. The last Dr. Keton to graduate from L3 was in AC 189. He's currently working in Vienna Austria, as a Veterinarian." Heero folded his arms.  

"I see." Une nodded. "And NewSpace?"

"Dirty." Heero said.

"How so?"

"Their numbers are too precise. I don't…Quatre could tell you more."

"I'm sure." Une pursed her lips. 

The end of war, his on again off again relationship with Relena, both had given Heero a greater tendency to follow his instincts. Une considered it an asset. If Heero said  NewSpace was dirty, NewSpace was dirty. The question was, how dirty? 

They still hadn't worked out what the device Dr. Keton, or whoever he was, actually did. More disturbing though, was the data stored in the crystal he'd worn around his neck. If it held any shred of truth, she needed to call a meeting of the world council. Storm the station. Crack Dr. Keton. Do something. Yesterday. 

Because if the data-crystal held a shred of truth, then somewhere in the NewSpace LTD Station 8734029 sat a weapon that could shrug off Gundanium. A weapon that would change the world.

****

It took ten minutes for Desperiox to assemble his team, nine hours to reach Earth's orbit, and another twenty minutes to get routine clearance to land in New Sank. His orders were simple. Their benefactors had a person in place on the surface. They were to rendezvous with the woman, Taneisha, share information, then find and retrieve the doctor. 

Desperiox's team currently consisted of eleven people. Most, like him, were former alliance soldiers, some ex-Barton, all with reasons to hate the new regime. Desperiox wondered that nobody spotted them, old soldiers moving like soldiers under orders, in small groups through the Sank spaceport. 

Then again, the spaceport was crowded today. Children screamed for their parents; lovers reunited; lovers parted, the old, young, and most in between, all caught in their own private conflicts and victories. Desperiox saw them as sheep. Those who would sacrifice truth for the veneer of peace. At least, Treize, the bastard, had possessed the courage to die for his ideals. 

But what did that say of Desperiox?

The flight had given him too much time to think. 

"Stay with the bags. I'll get the car." Yolande Timmons, short, lithe, and expert sniper, said with a smile. Her blond hair was pulled back in a rough ponytail; her clothing sweats and running shoes.

Desperoix nodded. Two duffels and a suitcase lay at his feet. He leaned back against a post that read 'Gate A10', folded his arms across his chest and pretended to stare blankly into the crowd. 

He was supposed to meet his contact here, at 14:00 hours. Now. He didn't like it. Only through chance had he caught the intercolony news report that showed the pieces of his missing docking bay scattered around the suburbs of New Sank. But somehow his contact – one name, Taniesha – had been in place for over twelve hours. She made the twelfth member of their team. The only member of his team Desperiox hadn't worked with, had never met, and didn't trust. 

Still, he was willing to deal with his feelings of  uncertainty if this Taniesha gave them the key to retrieve Dr. Keton and his data without loss of life. 

The dull roar of a launching shuttle vibrated through the floor. It was all so civilized. Shuttles landed and took off. Still safer than driving. Even so, accidents happened. But for every pilot that died – however rare it was in these days of peace – ten waited to take his place. 

It was no different in the wars. Shaniel Yamato. She had volunteered. An easy mission. Take a group of diplomats to the site of a peace conference. She had volunteered, and died for her folly. Desperiox closed his eyes, a blink that lasted five seconds too long. 

He'd wondered then, how he could live without her. Now, three years after AC 195, he knew. Desperiox opened his eyes, opened his hands which had closed to tight fists. 

The damn shuttle ride had left him too much time to think. 

"Is this the gate for the L3 shuttle?" The voice was female, but her tone so flat, even if she hadn't stated the first sentence of the code, he would have doubted she asked a question. 

"Only one shuttle to L3. Just left. You'd best be seeing to a hotel room." He lied. Shuttles left for L3 every three hours, give or take. 

"I see." She nodded. Her hair was short, almost buzzed against her head and bright red. Her skin was pale, her eyes blue. Not beautiful, not even striking, another face in a crowd of faces. She said. "I am Taniesha."

"Desperoix." 

Her gaze flicked past his eyes, across his face, down to his toes and back up. "I know." It would have been sexual, but nothing about her spoke of sex. She reached down, grabbed the suitcase, and said. "Time is short."

Desperiox raised an eyebrow, then took the two duffels and started towards the rental agency. The suitcase weighed at least 65 kilos, maybe more. Taniesha didn't look that strong, then again, her clothes were loose, baggy pants and a flowing, crème blouse. She moved like a martial artist, but with no art. She didn't talk, didn't fidget, didn't sweat, did none of the things that would have identified her as human. Each step she took seemed calculated. Desperiox should have admired it. Would have admired it. But he didn't. 

The last person he'd seen who moved so well was the EarthSphere 'hero' of the Eve Wars, Heero Yuy. 

There were some things he couldn't forgive. Wouldn't forgive. And didn't. But he didn't have to like her to work with her. 

End Chapter 3

Hope this is beginning to come together for everyone. If not, keep reading. More it come J


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